


And They Were Roommates

by Beccafiend



Category: Saiyuki, Saiyuki Ibun
Genre: Alternate Universe - Art School, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-07 17:30:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16412810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beccafiend/pseuds/Beccafiend
Summary: "Their professors learn not to comment on the sudden increase in designs and paintings with the same subject matter. After all, they’re roommates."A series of mostly related oneshots in the same AU, not necessarily in chronological order.





	1. Favor

**Author's Note:**

> Do you ever just. Make an AU that gets away from you and then suddenly you have a ship and you DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED but here you are. Suffering. Because same, tbh.

“Genjo, I need you to do me a favor.” Jyoan’s words come as a surprise, startling him enough that he turns without thinking, cocking a brow in confusion.

 

“With what?”

 

“I need you to model for me. Someone canceled last minute and this presentation is today.”

 

There’s a note of genuine distress in his roommate’s voice, and Genjo knows the plea hadn’t come without him exhausting every other available option. They aren’t in the same field, and Genjo doesn’t model.

 

“You sure it’s okay?”

 

“Yes, I called my teacher. The clothes should fit you, and I’ll tell you exactly what to do. I just need a live model who can pull off the look right.” Jyoan’s eyes meet his, and there is enough desperation there that he can’t stop himself, despite his misgivings.

 

“Alright. I’ll do it.”

 

To Jyoan’s credit, in his element he directs well; the perfectionist in him giving him an eye for detail. And yet, Genjo never feels uncomfortable with what he is told to do, though it’s certainly not his forte.

 

The class never seems to catch on, and he hears several of them mutter amongst themselves trying to find out when he’s booking. Genjo ignores them, because there’s only one person who can talk him into this shit. Jyoan tells him to keep the clothes when the project is graded and done - a perfect score - and hands them off to Genjo like it’s nothing. Genjo doesn’t miss the slight pride in his eyes on their next trip to the bar when he just so happens to find Jyoan’s design in his closet.

 

The clothes are comfortable, he says, and he leaves it at that.

 

\----

 

“Jyoan, I need you to model for me.”

 

Weeks later find Genjo at Jyoan’s door, the same tone of pleading in his voice. When Jyoan turns to look at him, he sees his own confusion mirrored in delicate features.

 

“You do? Why?”

 

“Figure painting. None of the models are available until after it’s due. It has to be live.”

 

The concern in Jyoan’s voice is genuine, brows knitting together in uncertainty.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yes. It’ll be fine. You just have to pose long enough for me to get the sketch down. I’ll direct you where I need.” He doesn’t miss the pleading in his own voice, and neither does Jyoan. The verbal confirmation almost isn’t necessary, the look on his face saying more than enough.

 

“I’ll do it.”

 

Jyoan barely needs any direction, and he stays impressively still for as long as Sanzo needs, despite the pose. With the light falling just so, the fabrics draped just right, and hair falling just so, the lines of his body make an elegant, delicate picture. Neither the professor nor the class can find anything to say, and it’s Genjo’s highest grade to date. They all praise the subject, and the remarkable way Genjo captured the look in his eyes. He doesn’t tell them his roommate is a predictable man.

 

When Genjo brings it home, Jyoan insists on hanging it on the living room wall, to celebrate, he says. He looks back every now and then, the same look of wonder crossing his features. Like he’s never realized what he is capable of.

 

He says art beautifies a space, and Genjo doesn’t argue.

 

\----

 

They make a good partnership between the two of them. They work together well, and somehow manage to draw out the strengths of their programs, in their own ways. Genjo has an eye for design, even though he won’t admit it, and Jyoan knows color even better than Genjo. And if they both happen to model a lot in the process, it’s an added bonus. 

 

Their professors learn not to comment on the sudden increase in designs and paintings with the same subject matter. After all, they’re roommates.


	2. Birthday - Jyoan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Jyoan's birthday a few weeks back. It was on Tumblr in time shhhhhhh.

He never tells them when his birthday is. Up until now, it hasn’t much been worth celebrating. A day for himself isn’t as much fun when he’s always alone, and he’s quite comfortable with how they are now, without risking it all over something stupid he hasn’t bothered with for himself.

 

He’s all the more surprised when he comes home from classes that chilly September day, just to find the whole apartment decorated, and everyone shouting birthday wishes and surprises at him the minute he turns on the lights. He’s not entirely sure how they managed to fit everyone in their small apartment, but they managed, even getting an extra folding table in the living room somehow.

 

Goku and Puku are the first to direct him to the food spread, talking about each dish and how they tried to pick stuff Jyoan liked, but he can see a few selections in there he knows they got for themselves and everyone else. Hakkai promises he and Seiran made everything just to his liking. Gojyo, Gichou, and Sho’un have already set up at the booze table, Doutaku egging them into a contest. Houmei lounges on the couch, offering a belated “surprise” like he’d been asleep - Genjo knocks him upside the head and tells his brother to stop being a moron. He’s surprised to see Momo - Toudai, he reminds himself - and Genkai there, a polite nod from both as Genkai watches everything from his taller friend’s shoulders. Even Soujin makes it, their eldest classmate managing to beat them all in beer pong. Ryuzen and his itinerary go largely unfollowed, but they do have the sense to put everything on a coaster before the poor guy has an aneurysm.

 

As much as the party is supposed to be for him, they naturally get out of hand as usual, and the gifts are no better. He doesn’t know if he’s more offended or embarrassed by the magnum condoms Gojyo decides to give him - “Because I heard you’re a size queen, too” - but he doesn’t dare ask for the gift receipt.

 

It’s late by the time they all clear out, the house somehow cleaner than they left it thanks to Ryuzen - and Hakkai’s death smile offered just over his shoulder when he’s trying to lay down the law. He’s still a bit drunk and exhausted, but deep down, there’s a glimmer of warmth, and an unfamiliar feeling settling deep in his chest, gifts from all of them strewn about the living room as he finally gets a chance to settle in.

 

Gifts from all but one, he thinks, though one he knows isn’t the type. He assumes the party is gift enough from Genjo, knowing how much his roommate values his space - a value they share - and that’s honestly more than enough for him.

 

The weight of the box dropped on his chest startles him from a drink-induced doze, blond hair catching his attention as his roommate stands before him. “Sorry, it’s already after midnight.”

 

Inside the box, he finds a jar, a beautiful crystaline container of facial product he’s been wanting for weeks. It’s not cheap, and he knows it’s something he’s been mostly bitching about to himself during their nightly routine. He’d never thought Genjo was listening.

 

“....It’s beautiful.” Genjo doesn’t mention the way he turns away, hiding the wet trails that make their way down his cheeks behind his hair. It’s more than beautiful. Far more than that. Thankfully, with Genjo he knows he doesn’t have to say it.

 

For the first time in his life, he starts to think maybe birthdays aren’t so bad after all.


	3. Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot that they don't talk about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler alert, it's gonna get shippy. I do plan to actually describe events in detail, I just had Thoughts and Feelings about things. Also hi this might be an otp, and by might I mean it definitely is, I'm not even sorry. WELCOME TO MULTISHIPPING HELL.

He finds comfort in Jyoan’s presence. A certain safety he doesn’t feel with the others. An understanding in moods that at a glance seems unlikely, and yet makes sense the more they spend time together.

 

They’re cut from the same cloth, neighboring swatches in a large and complicated pattern. Jyoan understands his moods, understands his why, in ways the others do not and cannot, and Genjo does the same for him. They know the why. They don’t need to talk about the why when it’s each other.

 

There’s a lot they don’t talk about, that they intrinsically understand.

 

They don’t talk when their lips first find each other’s - gentle and demanding, hesitant and needing all in one. They don’t talk when hands wander and pleasure builds. They don’t talk when they end up curled up in bed together, Jyoan’s face pressed against his back and arms wrapped around his middle. They don’t talk when they wake up with tangled limbs, somehow always facing each other, no matter who was facing who the night before.

 

They don’t talk when Jyoan doesn’t bother to leave his room one night, turning over in bed and stealing Sanzo’s spare pillow to sleep. The don’t talk when he comes back the next night, and the next night.

 

They don’t talk when Jyoan’s things start making their way into Sanzo’s room. Nor when his own room becomes surprisingly empty.

 

They don’t talk when everyone else does, and they don’t need to.


End file.
